


Razor Crest Lullaby

by bethagain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: (fluff adjacent?), (well mostly fluff), Bedtime, Cuddles, Fluff, Gen, he's doing his best, lullaby, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27574895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain
Summary: Putting the baby to bed. (Or, when's the last time either Din or The Child got an actual, proper hug?)
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 252





	Razor Crest Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> We learned in Chapter 10 (S2E2) that our Mandalorian even _sleeps_ in that armor, even in his own bed, at least when Stuff Is Going On.
> 
> I kept thinking about that scene after the Razor Crest crashes through the ice, when everything's gone wrong and the temperature's dropping, and we see The Child trying to cuddle up against Din--but how well can you cuddle up to beskar? It broke my heart a bit to think, doesn't Baby Yoda ever get a hug for real? And when's the last time Din let anyone get that close to him?
> 
> The following is me trying to fix this.
> 
> (brought over from tumblr)

It takes a while.

_A clan of two,_ the Armorer said. The rules are different, with your clan. 

But he’s never been a child in a Mandalorian clan. When they took him in, he was still far from adulthood, but he was old enough to learn to fight. Old enough to don the armor, to learn to use the electronics that heightened his hearing and expanded his vision into the ultraviolet and the infrared. 

The memories before that time come only in flashes. 

He makes sure The Child is fed, has clean garments, gets exercise. He tinkers with the hover-pram. 

He rigs up a little hammock in his sleeping quarters, so The Child is nearby when he’s not awake to watch it. When the little creature whimpers in the night, he’ll check to be sure it’s safe. He makes sure that it doesn’t need the privy, that it isn’t hungry. And then he’ll sit there in the dark and worry, until the sounds subside.

  


The change takes longer than you’d think. 

The ship’s chrono says it’s midnight, for whatever that’s worth out here in hyperspace. He’s offered, once again, a bite of rations, but the little face turned away. One of its ears is crushed against the hammock, so he reaches out to straighten it. He’s surprised to find the baby’s head moves to press up against his hand, and the unhappy sounds stop. 

Well, that’s good. He pulls his hand away, ready to get back to sleep. But The Child begins to cry again. 

So he sits there, gloved hand resting gently on the baby’s head, until the little one’s asleep. 

  


Their routine evolves. He tucks the baby in now, makes sure the ears aren’t smushed, pats the little head to say good night. He takes his gloves off first, thinking they might feel rough against its skin. 

Sometimes The Child sleeps through until the chrono says it’s morning. Sometimes he’s awakened by those unhappy whimpers, and he sits close and rubs the baby’s back awhile. Sometimes he was awake anyway, fleeing his own troubled dreams. 

He gets a little bored, truth be told, when The Child’s having trouble settling. So, he starts to talk to it. 

At first, it’s just mundane things. A list of repairs for the Razor Crest. Names of places they’ve been and places they’ll go. The baby seems to like it, so he keeps going. When he runs out of ordinary things, he thinks of making up stories. 

But he doesn’t remember anyone telling him stories as a child. 

  


Some nights, talking doesn’t help. Some nights the baby’s as restless as he is, and the only thing for it is to walk back and forth in the Razor Crest’s tiny hold, bouncing the little creature in his arms. By the third or fourth time this happens he gives up on the breastplate and vambraces, because it’s easier to hold the baby without them--but the armor’s nearby. It wouldn’t do to be without it. 

He’s starting to feel like he’s going to wear a groove in the metal floor. 

What do people do, he thinks, when a little one won’t stop crying. 

  


It takes a bit of a while, until a flash of memory tells him. They’re all alone out there again, the ship safely in hyperdrive, and even though he hasn’t sung since he was a child, he goes for it anyway. 

The Child hiccups, startled, then starts wailing again. He can hear his own voice through the helmet’s modulator and he thinks it sounds harsh, flattened. 

He looks at the chrono. They’ll be dropping out of hyperspace in a couple of hours, and who knows what they might encounter when they do. He needs to sleep if he’s going to be worth a damn. The baby needs to sleep, too.

_You are a clan of two,_ the Armorer said. There are rules you don’t have to follow when you’re with your clan. 

Holding the baby with one arm against his chest, he reaches up, releases a hidden catch, and takes off his helmet. The Child, little head buried against his shirt, still voicing soft sobs, doesn’t even notice. 

But when he starts back to singing, it’s a matter of moments before the baby’s sound asleep.


End file.
